


Sweetness

by reviloo



Category: Twosetviolin
Genre: Angst, Blood, Hanahaki Disease, M/M, more tags at end of notes, written for tsv angst week
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-07
Updated: 2019-12-07
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:28:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,853
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21709741
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reviloo/pseuds/reviloo
Summary: "He knows this is bound to happen. There should be no fear about it."In which he learns to cope with the deadliness of unreciprocated feelings.
Relationships: Eddy Chen & Brett Yang, Eddy Chen/Brett Yang
Comments: 11
Kudos: 58





	Sweetness

**Author's Note:**

> thank you to 2set.writingprompts on instagram for creating the prompts! i hope to write one more from the prompt set, so keep an eye out for that c:
> 
> and, of course, thank you to kuroi (kuro_iplrrr) for the inspiration! check out their hanahaki twoset fic, symphony!! c:

It's the end.

He knows, as he lays in bed and feels a sharp pain travel up his airway, as his head begins to spin from the flowers that tear him apart from the inside out. He shuts his eyes, leaning his head against the pillow and waiting for them to spill out to kill him fully; the metallic and floral taste in his mouth sends a familiar shiver down his spine, but he pushes the feeling away.

He knows this is bound to happen. There should be no fear about it.

* * *

"Here."

Eddy jolted awake as Brett dropped both cups of bubble tea in front of him. He yawned, absentmindedly reaching for his wallet until he felt a hand clasp his wrist.

Brett glared. "Do  _ not _ pay me back."

"You've bought bubble tea for me this past week."

"That's because you've looked like absolute crap." He took Eddy's drink out of his bag - coconut milk tea with boba, 50% sugar, as usual - and set it down on the table. "Take it, bro. You need it."

It wasn't a lie. Eddy's eyes were rimmed red from a lack of proper sleep, his voice reduced to nothing but a wisp of what it had been weeks ago. Before pushing Brett to make all of the hotel and performance space bookings, Eddy needed to do all of the financial details, and he was more than willing to spend entire nights pouring over numbers. And while Eddy  _ was _ running on more caffeine than usual, he craved nothing but a sip of sugar.

He sighed. His eyes lingered on the blue flowers that lined the bottom of the cup and the just-as-blue straw that Brett gave him, before glancing back up at Brett's deadpan eyes.

They sat there in silence until Eddy caved.

"Fine." He took the straw and stabbed it into the cup, watching Brett break into a smile as he took a large sip. "But I'll get you back soon."

"Give it your best shot."

* * *

If there is one thing he feels, it's regret.

There's more, definitely, but regret is the clearest feeling he can identify; it's one that he can point out with relative ease and one where he can easily explain everything that led up to the feeling. His breaths begin to grow shallow as he coughs, the weight on his chest growing heavier as petal after petal begins to spill out.

His mouth tastes like perfume. Blood is dripping down his jaw, staining the pristine sheets a permanent crimson. He heaves a full flower out of his mouth, shutting his eyes to avoid the sight of the blue orchid.

It catches his eye either way. All he can see behind his lids are the bright blue flowers, glittering brilliantly as he sinks deeper into the bed.

* * *

"Did you actually-"

Eddy grinned as he shoved a cup of bubble tea into Brett's freezing hands. "It's payment for last time. Take it."

"You don't need to pay me back. Save it for later or something; you look like you still really need it."

"I'm sick." He shrugged, reaching into his bag and pulling out a straw. "Shouldn't be having too much anyways."

"But-"

A glare. "Take it."

Brett frowned. Eddy still looked as terrible as he did last week, if not worse from his most recent cold. His hair was unkempt, strands of hair sticking out in the strangest of places, and his eyes were even more bloodshot, which Brett didn't think was possible in the first place. Either way, Eddy's gaze was cold and hard, and Brett eventually gave in to his determination.

He let out a few coughs as he stabbed the straw into the blue-patterned cup. "Thanks."

"No worries." Eddy glanced over at Brett as he continued to cough. Brett's hand covered his own mouth the entire time as his face began to turn a gentle shade of pink. "Am I getting you sick, or-"

"Nah," Brett swallowed mid-cough, "just choked on my own saliva."

Eddy's shoulders drooped with relief. "Good. Don't get sick, alright? We can't film anything as TooSick Violin."

"Well, if we did, would we get more views on YouTube?"

Eddy flicked him in the arm.

* * *

Sometimes, he wonders what could have happened had they become… a "thing," as he had so casually put it once. He wonders what would have changed between them as a couple instead of just two best friends, if anything would change at all; he imagines a different reality than the one he is facing now every once in a while, and relishes the feeling that lingers in his gut.

He sees it. The two of them holding hands, the feeling of their lips pressed against each other's, him falling to one knee and pulling out a ring to see the other's face glow with absolute joy -  _ of course, of course I'd marry you _ -

His eyes shoot open once he feels a cluster of flowers crawl out of his mouth, reminding him that the reality he wants is nothing but a mere fantasy.

He is left alone to suffocate in the darkness of his room.

* * *

In Eddy's mind, he was most definitely the reason why Brett was sick - while he had been free of his cold for some time, Brett was beginning to burn with a fever and hack both of his lungs out, just like past, stressed-out Eddy.

Needless to say, Eddy was still not getting enough sleep and the world tour calculations were not done, but he figured he had enough time to visit Brett, who had decided to curl up in his bed and sleep the entire day. With a bag of bubble tea in his hands, he reached into his pocket for Brett's house key and entered.

His house was comfortable: Eddy saw everything that made this house Brett's when he stepped in, from the awards that were all around the walls to the pile of engineering books and music scores that rested on the table. He blinked as he heard a round of coughing coming from the bathroom.

"Brett?" he called. "Everything alright?"

He set the bag down on the table and took out Brett's drink - which was usually whatever sounded cool, as Brett never had a preference - before walking over to the bathroom with the cup and straw in his hand. Eddy heard a flush, and then water running, and then Brett opening the bathroom door with a frown.

"Why are you here?"

Eddy blinked as a wave of floral perfume, strong and pungent, reached his nose. "I- uh- figured that I would drop by. You know, like you did last time. I brought bubble tea."

His gaze softened as it lingered on the cup. "You didn't need to. Take both of them home."

"It's from our favorite place. You know you want some."

Brett sighed, watching as Eddy waved the cup in front of his eyes. In his eyes was a hunger that Eddy most definitely noticed, especially once he waved it even closer to Brett's face-

"Damn. You know me too well." Brett snatched it in his hands and poked the straw in before taking a long sip.

"It's green milk tea with red bean." Eddy grinned as Brett nodded in approval. "I figured you haven't had it, so, hey. Might as well."

"Thanks, bro. This is good."

"Don't worry about it. Anything for my best friend."

Eddy watched as Brett's face fell. It was ever so slight, something that Eddy would have never noticed had they not been friends for too many years. He opened his mouth, eager to ask what was wrong, but was stopped by Brett clearing his throat and shoving the drink back in Eddy's hand.

"Two seconds."

The bathroom door was shut in Eddy's face.

He heard another round of coughing and was left standing there to stare at the blue flowers that decorated the cup and the scarlet that lined the tip of the straw.

* * *

He's learned that acceptance is pain.

He doesn't  _ want _ to die, yet here he is, accepting that death is what he has coming for him. There's so much more that he wants to do besides dying at the young age of 27 from a handful of harmless orchids and romantic feelings.

He forgets that suffocation is a slow death, that he's going to be left with nothing but his thoughts for the rest of his short time. He recognizes the pain in his head and the spinning of the room as a part of the progression, as well as the flowers and leaves that are now non-stop streaming out of his mouth.

It hurts. It hurts, and he is crying, tears mixing with sweat mixing with blood as he refuses to struggle for a breath of fresh air. 

There's no point in resisting his demise anymore.

* * *

_ What did you just do, Brett Yang? _

He wanted it to happen again. He wanted to press his cold hands against Eddy's warm cheeks and drag Eddy's face down closer to his for another deep kiss. He wanted Eddy to melt into it, for him to whisper  _ I love you _ back, for something to happen other than Eddy stumbling back with his eyes widened.

Eyes widened from what? From shock? From fear? From disgust?

Brett didn't know.

But he did know one thing. He watched as Eddy's trembling hand reached up to touch his bloodied lips, lips that tasted of a sick sweetness and bubble tea; he watched as Eddy took a deep breath and struggled to think through his words of rejection; he ran out of the door once he felt something crawling up his throat, refusing to let Eddy say anything but his name as he chased after Brett.

As soon as he made it home, he slammed his back against the front door and coughed, sobbing as clusters of flowers began to tumble onto the porch.

* * *

_ "Brett?" _

It almost feels like he's there again: in New York City, under the lights of Times Square and hidden in the crowd of tourists. He looks up at the lights, his eyes amazed as they stare at the endless spiral of colors and words flashing on the screens, as the neon lights illuminate the black skies and beyond. The autumn chill lingers in the air, but Brett huddles in Eddy's wool scarf and grins at the busy night of the city.

_ What is it, Eddy? _

_ "Thank you." _

_ For what? _

Brett wants to see Eddy again, not the hallucinations he's having in his room. But this will do.

_ "For making our dreams come true. I don't think I would be able to do any of," _ he waves a hand, _ "this without you, so thank you. Thank you for always being my partner." _

Brett glances over at Eddy. He sees his radiant grin and the city lights behind him dull, focusing the spotlight onto Eddy. He swallows - tasting nothing but the petals that surround his throat and dig into his chest - as the lights fall into darkness, and all that is left is Eddy.

He takes his last shallow breath.

**Author's Note:**

> further warnings: implication of death
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


End file.
